We returned to Naila's neighborhood, arriving in the evening, though learned en route that she had decided to leave the country and was already out at the ariport. Her two roommates (two guys, one being a Fulbright and the other on a similar American program) had been evacuated days before. Unfortunately, that left us stranded and unable to reach our bags and newly acquired hookahs. Through a stroke of only-in-Egypt coincidence, the landlady's perscription to this problem was to hook us up with another set of Americans who recently moved into the building, until we could figure out how to get a key.
Cairo is a melange of old and new
In toe behind the landlady's sister, we knocked on the Americans' door and politely introduced ourselves, awkwardly asking if we might crash on their floor for the night. It felt a lot like being a small child whose parent walks them to the schoolyard kids and asks if they can play. Fortunately, the young couple generously welcomed us inside, arranging a place for us in the spare bedroom. Our foursome of straggler expats hit it off well-- Chris and I were fascinated to learn how they've come to live in Egypt,working and studying, and how they've fared during the protests, while they were curious about our impression of the rest of the country. The couple, Anna and Chris, had been in Cairo a few years already, and longer in the region, so they shared a wealth of experiences and knowledge of the political situation and such. We ate dinner together and watched Al-Jazeera English, which was by this time airing footage from around the country, all of us speaking and questioning endlessly during the broadcast. Neither of them felt in terrible danger, laying low and abiding by the curfew, frequenting Tehrir less this week. Our unexpected knocking only spooked them a little, lest we be the authorities...
Our saviors! Anna and Chris, Cairo expats
The next day Chris and I raced to the airport, where it turns out Naila had been stranded for the night. To get there we had to very systematically follow directions first via metro + transfer, navigate a winding path through a market and university campus, cross over to the urban busses and flag one heading in the right direction, which spit us out at the freeway entrance, and finally walk the last mile to the third airport terminal. Eventually we arrived and found Naila nestled in among a swarm of others, a loud melange of people from all over the world. Out front a canopy was set up to cover huge loads of luggage, which seemed to belong to an enormous swarm of African families. I can't even guess which country they were heading to.
Life and traffic go on, despite the protests
It became clear Naila would be going nowhere anytime soon, so instead we all returned to the city and went to stay for a night with her friend. This guy, an Egyptian man who lives mostly in Algeria but came home for vacation (good timing!), is refreshingly well educated and speaks English perfectly, so we spent the night eating delicious food (we tried to dine out, but couldn't find an open restaurant, so instead we cooked), watching YouTube videos, and generally hanging out talking. I will let it be known that, although Chris chides me for reporting there was no chicken in the store (he insists I'm inciting the belief that there are food shortages), factually, there was no chicken at the grocer. There, I've said it.
Natural loofahs in the market (but no chicken)
The next day Naila passed us her key before heading off again to the airport. We took the metro to her apartment, where we were able to stay the night and extract our belongings. Chris and I had tickets for the following week to Athens, and decided to wait out our time tying up loose ends and finalizing our trip. We had a mess of bikes to magically shrink down into teeny, tiny boxes and a load of hookahs to pack carefully. Funny thing is that there are cardboard boxes everywhere, but men come around to snatch and recycle them so its a little tricky to claim the good ones. We spent a few nights in the apartment, hanging out with Anna and Chris by day and getting their latest news-junkie reports, making regular fhuul-eggplant-pickle sandwhich trips and chomping down copious galaxy (chocolate) bars.
Street vendor selling sweet koshari, this time with couscous-like grains, raisins, powdered sugar, and shredded coconut
Bikes are tiny without their wheels!
In the morning Chris and I returned to Khan al-Khalili market, surrounded by street life that seemed completely normal. At least during the early hours people are out working and shopping. Markts are open and traffic is heavy. Another round of scrutinizing in the hookah shops; this time Chris bought a set of basic, less expensive hookahs.
Another load of hookahs from Khan Al-Khalili
Carrying loot through the Spice Bazaar
I was excited to peer around the spice streets and pick up giant sacks full of chamomile (oh Albania! You hooked me on the drug!) and habiscus tea, as well as sniff around, enjoying the bulk non-packageness of the mystery burlap sacks, and pungent odors.
Spice Bazaar, where we picked up some colorful hibiscus tea and chamomile
Bags o Spices
Our final days were spent in the southern (expat) neighborhood of Maadi, where we were invited to crash with a couple we had met in Jordan. Some months before we struck up conversation with them in Little Petra, while drinking tea, and had swapped emails. I wasn't sure if they'd still be in-country, but luckily for us they believed life was endurable outside of Tehrir.
With our Maadi hostess, Monica
Chris and I hadn't really spent time in Maadi, which was a little too foreign for our tastes (however beautiful, the merchants here seemed used to "serving" people and the prices were inflated five-fold). Instead of having markets there was an air-conditioned grocery store, selling imported goodies we had no interest in. However, we scored a bottle of date-flavored camel's milk, one thing I desperately wanted to get my hands on (camel's milk, didn't even occur to me until after we left Jordan). I enjoyed it vicariously through Chris, who reported back that it tastes like a bowl of cereal-milk. Get ready, America! I vote swapping oil for camel's milk!
Pickin up some Date Milk in Maadi (check out that beard!)
Maadi is pretty with trees and shrubs
That pretty much rounds out our whereabouts during our final days in Egypt. It was both exciting and little nerve-wrecking to be here during the uprising. Street life has returned to normal, though by night shops close for curfew and men and boys stand by to defend their homes in case trouble brews. There are no more midnight gun shots, no tourists on the street, and it certainly feels like we are in the center of the world's spotlight. From our own experiences with the police here, I empathize for the millions of Egyptian citizens who have been hauled in "for questioning" with absolutely no power or protection. That is surely why Chris and I felt no fear- foreigners are treated with deference (as prized cattle really... kept in certain locations where their money can best be extracted) but these compounds full of men and guns coupled with the mentality of "just following orders" can only lead to brutal consequences.
Egypt's time to shine!
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